Padraic Truly Is Noble
by Shelly Lane
Summary: After pestering Toby and outwitting criminals, Felicia tells a story about what she thinks life would have been like if Ratigan had never been a criminal. Disney, Titus, Doyle, and Shakespeare own all. (Yes, I spelled "Capulet" wrong on purpose.) The title is sort of a pun; the name "Padraic" means "noble," and now, Ratigan is finally acting noble instead of being a felon.
1. Introduction: Toby Gets Rabies

******Introduction: Toby Gets Rabies**

Ratigan knelt before me, trembling as he touched his palms and forehead to the ground.

I licked my lips in eager anticipation. I'd waited for this day for years!

He looked up at me with terror in his eyes. "Spare me! I'll do anything!"

A wicked chuckle nearly escaped my lips. Hearing him grovel was the sweetest sound imaginable!

"Are you going to eat my food?!"

My eyes fluttered open, and I realized that I was standing in a kitchen. The dog's food bowl, containing a few scraps that Mrs. Hudson had given him earlier, was inches away from my nose.

Toby was staring at me. "You'd better not eat my food! Our humans give you plenty!"

"Sorry. I guess I was sleepwalking. I was dreaming about that rat again," I explained.

"Felicia, he's been dead for over a year," Toby reminded me.

"Good riddance!" I sighed. "There are times I still wonder what would have happened if your humans hadn't allowed me to move into their home."

"You would've bled to death from the wounds the royal guard dogs administered," he replied. "Look, you live here now, and you've changed your ways. Now that we've got that settled, I would like to point out that it's a half hour until midnight, so we should go back to sleep."

I nodded and followed him back to the main room, where I curled up on my favorite cushion in front of the fireplace. Toby lay down in his usual spot and started tossing and turning. Fifteen minutes later, he was still restless.

"What is your problem?!" I demanded.

"Insomnia," he replied.

"Would you be able to go to sleep if I sang for you?"

The dog frowned. "You sing?"

"Yes, I sing!" I thought a moment. "I will sing about Pinchin Lane, where you used to live before you moved in with Mr. Holmes."

Toby gave me a strange look, but he nodded, and I began my song:

___He's the horror throughout Hampstead._

___Of Baker Street, he's the bane._

___Yes, your future is grim_

___Should you chance to see him;_

___He's the plague of Pinchin Lane!_

___All his manners are appalling,_

___And his face could stop a train._

___Just one look and you'll see_

___Why so many say he_

___Is the plague of Pinchin Lane._

___He somehow thinks he is clever,_

___Though he doesn't have a brain._

___Every time he is near,_

___His adversaries cheer_

___For the plague of Pinchin Lane._

___London's criminals start laughing_

___As he looks for them in vain._

___He thinks he's a great sleuth,_

___But we know that in truth_

___He's the plague of Pinchin Lane._

___He's the reason for my headaches;_

___He has caused every migraine._

___As he's always the main_

___Cause of evil and pain,_

___And there's nothing to gain_

___From this beast gone insane._

___Who could help but complain_

___As they look with disdain_

___At the plague of Pinchin Lane?!_

When I finished my song, Toby glared. "Cat, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were singing about me!"

"Very clever, sleuth!" I complimented sarcastically.

"That wasn't funny."

"I found it hilarious."

He continued to glare.

"Look, dog. I know you're trying to get to sleep, so I'll make up for the musical joke with a nice bedtime story." I considered what story to tell him. "Today as I was walking through the alley, I saw a dog. He had a sort of foam around his mouth, and he acted as if rage had driven him insane."

Toby's eyes widened. "Rabies!"

"A horrible disease!" I commented. "The lingering agony is dreadful! Just imagine the torment of excruciating convulsions of the entire body for days or even weeks before your brain finally suffers a stroke and ends your misery!"

He shuddered.

"Not to worry." I smirked and began rubbing against him in that special manner we cats have. "Although it is possible and has happened before, cats usually don't get rabies. However, a perfectly healthy cat can easily transmit the rabies virus to other animals, such as dogs."

I thought Toby was going to have a heart attack. He sprang to his feet and hid under the nearest chair in less time than it takes to tell about it. I'd never seen him move so fast. Meanwhile, he was whimpering like he was being mauled by the Baskerville hound.

Hearing the sound of human footsteps approaching, I pretended to be asleep. Usually, the humans weren't too happy about their pets waking them up in the middle of the night. The footsteps stopped in the middle of the living room, but I didn't hear a voice, so I knew it was Mr. Holmes. He always liked to see if he could figure out the problem before ordering us to go back to sleep.

"What's come over you, Toby?!" Mr. Holmes demanded. "Cats have a rather acute sense of hearing, yet Mrs. Hudson's companion appears not to be alarmed. Therefore, one must conclude there is nothing in this room that could have caused your anxiety, nor does there appear to be any suspicious activity outside."

Although he was a man of extraordinary intelligence, Mr. Holmes lacked the knowledge to understand the conversation of other species. There was no way Toby could explain the situation, so the human returned to his room, still puzzled about why the dog seemed frightened while I was nonchalantly sleeping.

I loved it. There were very few individuals who could boast of outwitting Mr. Holmes, yet I had just baffled him.

When the flat was quiet again, I finally succumbed to the fit of laughter I'd been hiding.

"What's so funny?!" Toby queried.

Gasping for breath, I asked him if he knew the meaning of the phrase "work of fiction."

"You didn't really see a rabid dog, did you?"

I shook my head. "You should have seen your eyes!" I started laughing again. "Let me tell you about this human by the name of Louis Pasteur. Over ten years ago, he…" I was laughing too hard to finish my sentence.

The dog snarled. "Cat, I am going to kill you!"

"For once, I'd probably deserve it," I answered.

He sighed. "I'm going to sleep now. Good night."

"Good night," I responded. "Tomorrow's story is about distemper."

Toby rolled his eyes. "Felicia, you're more evil than…!"

"Even you," I finished. "You've pulled some pretty good jokes too. Besides, you can't blame me for having a mischievous streak. You have to remember who raised me. I might have been different if Ratigan hadn't been a criminal."

"If Ratigan hadn't been a criminal," he repeated. "Now THAT would be a good story!"

"I'll see if I can find time to tell it tomorrow."


	2. Amateurs Steal My Scratching Post

**Amateurs Steal My Scratching Post**

Although I usually preferred napping on the windowsill, there were times when I enjoyed a bit of adventure, so I joined Toby when he invited me to accompany him to the park the next day. This turned out to be a mistake. If I ever again overhear anyone using the phrase "walk in the park" to mean something is easy, I will personally scratch out their eyes.

The dog and I were just having a leisurely stroll when we were seized by three strangers.

"We got the Holmes dog, boss!" one exclaimed. "What should we do with the cat?"

Boss shrugged. "Leave it here."

Unwilling to let Toby out of my sight, I followed them. When I noticed that they stopped on Tower Bridge, I nearly started laughing. Amateurs! I thought humans were one of the smartest species alive, but even in a drunken stupor, Ratigan's thugs had always known better than to attempt a crime in a crowded public place in broad daylight. I gave Toby a reassuring smile. The Queen of Crime, heiress to the world's greatest criminal ring, was not afraid of amateurs.

"Why are we drowning the dog again?" one man asked.

Boss sighed. "We've been over this countless times!" He leaned in closer and whispered, "That dog found the evidence Holmes needed to see me arrested!"

I rolled my eyes. This idiot was clearly not the next Moriarty. Even without Toby's assistance, Mr. Holmes could have jailed this imbecile blindfolded.

"When Holmes finds out his dog is dead," continued Boss, "he'll hate it. You know how people feel when they lose a dog they love! In addition to the initial grief, he'll be inconvenienced. Where will he ever find a dog good enough to replace this one as a sleuth hound? In the event he does, he's going to have spend at least several months training it. Murdering his dog is the perfect revenge!"

"How are we going to do it?" asked Boss's other employee.

Boss held out a rag that had some chemical on it. "Give him a little of this; then slit his throat and throw him in the river while he's asleep!"

"Why not just throw him in the river without going through all the trouble of the other steps?"

"Dogs can swim!"

"But is it really necessary to slit his throat?" the first man asked.

Boss sighed. "Suppose someone sees him fall and rescues him. What then? We want to make sure he'll still die, even if he doesn't drown!"

"What about the cat?"

"Kill it first. It will be good practice, and if someone saves it, who cares? The cat is of no value to us."

How foolish these criminals were! Toby's captor set him on the ground in order to help execute me.

I smiled at Toby and mouthed, "To the police station!"

He nodded and ran off.

"Boss, the dog's getting away!" one of the felons exclaimed.

"You shouldn't have put him down!" Boss retorted. "I'll get the dog! You take care of the cat!"

I was about to show two novice criminals what the Maharani of Murder thought of amateurs. I began scratching the hands that seized me. Just as I had planned, I was immediately dropped. I noticed that one of them threw something at me, and there was a sharp pain between my ribs, but I ignored it as I dodged a kick.

"You dropped the cat!" the other felon scolded. "Now we've got to go after it!"

Rather than causing them to run after me, I allowed them to get close. Just when one started to reach for me, I would walk off a few paces. I knew I was frustrating them by always staying barely out of reach. Any minute now, they'd be sure to make a mistake. Frustrated criminals rarely had the ability to think clearly, especially if they weren't too bright in the first place. At last, I stepped behind a constable.

"Look, cat, the boss says we have to kill you!" one man explained as he stooped to reach me. "Then we have to kill the Holmes dog because he helped put us all in prison! We were lucky to escape!"

The constable overheard him. In less time than it takes to tell about it, the two escaped dimwits…_convicts_, that is…were back in their cell. I found Toby waiting at the police station.

"Did they capture Boss?" I asked.

He nodded, but I noticed his eyes were as wide as the wheels on hansom cabs.

"Are you alright, Toby? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," he responded. "Are you in pain?"

I felt like my ribs were on fire, but I wasn't about to admit that to a dog, so I changed the subject.

"Tobias Holmes, you **_IDIOT_**!" I smacked him as hard as I could. "Didn't Basil ever tell you that being kidnapped could be dangerous?! Do you have any idea what almost happened to you?! I was safe! I didn't have to follow you to Tower Bridge!"

"Why did you save me?!" he demanded. "If I'm so much trouble, why didn't you let me die?!"

"You are **MY **scratching post!" I retorted. "That man was going to use his dagger against you! You are **MINE **to torture! No one else has the right! **NO ONE!**"

"Oh, is that it?!" He scoffed. "Next time, just let them kill me!"

"You're not my boss! If I would rather die with you than live without you, that is my decision! You have no say in the matter!" For once, I made no attempt to hide the tears that blurred my vision. "I once allowed a criminal mastermind to end the life of my only friend. I could have prevented the murder, but I didn't. I couldn't let that happen again. I couldn't bear to outlive another best friend when it was within my power to save his life, even if it cost my own."

The dog smiled sadly. "How can I ever repay you? That dagger should have been between my ribs!"

I grinned. "It is enough for me to know you owe your life to a cat." At that moment, I suddenly realized what he had just said. "Is there…?"

He nodded.

"That must have been what one of them threw as I was escaping. You're lucky that Boss didn't have a weapon."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Pain is what occurs when you get glass embedded in your paw, and your psychotic master bandages the paw with a mixture of cayenne peppers and curry…without even bothering to remove the glass first. Pain is what occurs when a sewer rat uses your nose to put out his cigarettes. Pain is what occurs when the king of crime borrows a club from one of his men. Pain is what occurs when you leap into the royal guard dogs' kennel. Pain is not something that happens when you get a minor nick."

Alright, I admit it. I was lying. Getting a dagger between the ribs is not an experience I'd recommend, but as soon as Toby and I got home, the humans took care of me. In just a few minutes, I went from having a dagger between my ribs to having prawns between my teeth.

"How are you feeling?" Toby asked sympathetically as I relaxed on my favorite cushion.

"Not bad," I responded. "It's no worse than some of the things Ratigan used to do to me when I was a kitten."

"Cat…"

"Confound it, Toby! I am unscathed!"

He laughed at my imitation of Basil's voice.

"I'll tell you that story," I offered. "You've been wanting to hear what I think life would have been like if Ratigan had never been a criminal, and after today's misadventures, I think we could both use a good story."

He settled next to me. "Start with Basil going away to study at the university. That's when most of the trouble seems to have started."

"Alright."


	3. The Story Begins

**The Story Begins**

As the train pulled away from the station, Ratigan's heart sank. His only friend was leaving.

"He'll be back," Ratigan reminded himself.

He had other worries. How was he to get enough money to eat? He considered petty theft, but he couldn't bring himself to steal.

"I know what they think of me because I don't look like them," he rhetorically commented. "I won't prove them right! Those mice are going to see me as equal! If I become a thief, they'll always see me as inferior! I'll starve first!"

Ratigan thought hard as he walked. Finally, he came to the conclusion that although it would hurt his pride dreadfully, he had no choice but to find a way to beg for money. Was there a way besides asking strangers to spare a shilling? Sitting on a park bench, he placed his hat beside him as he desperately tried to find an idea. The words of an old melody came to his mind and softly escaped his unwitting lips:

_At the tavern I'm in,_

_The patrons all cheer,_

_Laughing as they play cards,_

_Shoot dice, and drink beer._

_They rejoice in mirth;_

_My head hangs in chagrin_

_And tears fill my eyes_

_At the toll of Big Ben_

_At the toll of Big Ben_

_Just one hour past_

_We shared a warm embrace,_

_But it was our last._

_With soft, gentle words_

_She has shattered my heart._

_Her voice was so kind_

_As she tore me apart._

_I knew she was too brave_

_To start to complain_

_About the lifetime she_

_Spent waiting in vain._

_She wanted my love;_

_I committed a crime:_

_I've broken her heart,_

_But for the final time._

_Though I promised to change,_

_I still had to pay._

_There was no final kiss_

_As she walked away,_

_And now that she's gone_

_I won't see her again;_

_Our last goodbye was_

_At the toll of Big Ben._

_At the tavern I'm in,_

_The patrons all toast._

_No one cares that I've lost_

_What I have loved most._

_Nothing else matters,_

_For my life ended when_

_I lost all her love_

_At the toll of Big Ben._

Having finished his song, Ratigan was surprised to see a few coins in his hat. It would pay for enough groceries for his evening meal. Noticing a crowd had gathered around him, he began a song with a faster tempo, adding a few dance steps. His performance was met with applause and nearly five pounds.

"That's it!" he thought. "I shall be a street performer!"

With his musical talent, he never failed to earn enough money to eat. He even managed to slip a few pounds into the bank, hoping that one day he would have enough money saved to afford a small flat. Although he was still poor, he enjoyed his job and would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life singing and dancing for small crowds if one performance hadn't taken an unexpected turn.

When Ratigan finished singing one day, a mouse approached him. This was the same mouse that had been in nearly every crowd for the past three days.

"Yes?"

"Why are you working for meager shillings and a few pence?" the mouse asked. "Have you considered musical theater?"

"What idiot would hire a rat to be an actor?"

"I would." The mouse handed him a slip of paper. "Here's the address of the theater. Auditions are at 7:00. Do not disappoint me."

Having no other plans, Ratigan arrived at the theater at the designated time.

"You made it!" The director grinned. "Excellent!" He cleared his throat. "I don't conduct auditions by having the potential cast read from a script. Anyone can read enthusiastically from paper. I want to hear what's in your heart!"

When it was Ratigan's turn to sing onstage, the only thought in his mind was what Basil would say. Would he be surprised that his friend was a performer? Thinking of the final song from Basil's violin before the future detective had left to study at the university, Ratigan began his song:

___Goodbye so soon,_

___And isn't this a shame?_

___We know by now that time knows how to fly,_

___So here's goodbye so soon;_

___We'll go our separate ways._

___With time so short, I'll say so long_

___And go so soon_

___Goodbye._

___You stood by me; I stood by you._

___We were each other's companions for a while._

___Now as you see, our time is through,_

___So although it hurts, I'll try to smile_

___As I say goodbye so soon._

"Marvelous!" the director exclaimed. "Your heart is in your music! The audience will hear it when you portray your character! My dear fellow, you were created for this sort of thing!"

That was the night Ratigan's career began. A natural performer, he had no trouble adjusting to life as an actor. He was on his way to living happily ever after, but life wasn't finished with him yet.


	4. A New Friend

**A New Friend**

As Ratigan left the theater after rehearsal opening night, he noticed a bat hiding in an alley.

"What's wrong?" Ratigan asked kindly.

"I'm going to jail," the bat answered. "Got a detective on my case. I'm scared. I've never been arrested before."

"What have you done?"

"Accidentally burned down a house. It was a windy day, and I was trying to light a cigarette while I was flying. Dropped the match."

Ratigan thought a moment. "I believe I can help you."

The bat hugged him. "Oh thank you! Get me out of this mess, and I'll never smoke again!"

He shrugged. "None of my business if you smoke or not. By the way, I didn't get your name."

"Fabian."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you've got a bad case of the fidgets, Fabian?"

"Everyone in my family."

Ratigan escorted the bat to the police station.

"May we help you?" a constable asked suspiciously.

"This poor bat has accidentally destroyed someone's home," Ratigan began. "It was completely unintentional. He would like to pay for the damage he caused."

The constable frowned. "Aren't you that rat who played Lord Catpulet in tonight's production of _Romouso and Julirat_?"

"I am, sir."

"And this bat is a friend of yours?"

Ratigan nodded. "Please, sir, I'll pay for the harm he's done. He didn't mean it. Just please don't send him to jail. He wants to do the right thing, and he's really quite an amiable little fellow."

"You needn't have so many words about it. When a respected member of the community says something was an accident and offers to make it good, it's obvious to me that no one involved had any criminal intentions. That being, I'd wager no crime was committed, and in that case, no arrest is necessary."

He could scarcely believe what the constable had called him. The words "respected member of the community" continued to pound in his head. Managing to thank the constable and promising again to pay for the damage, Ratigan stepped outside.

"You see? It's all settled!" He smiled. "You are free to continue on your way, my fidgety little friend."

"Thanks. I'm not much at making good speeches, but if you ever need a favor, maybe I can help." With that, the bat crawled into an old barrel.

Ratigan winced. "Must you hide in there like a criminal, Fabian?"

"I live here," the bat explained.

"If I may ask, why don't you find a house or a nice flat?"

"Those cost money. You want a snack?" Fabian held out a piece of rotten fruit. "This is the best I've got, and I want you to have it."

"Why don't you stay with me until you can find your own place?"

"I couldn't. You've done enough for me already."

"I insist."

Ratigan made a large breakfast the next morning. Fabian was so excited that he stuttered in a frenzy rather than forming coherent words.

"Good morning, Fidget!" teased Ratigan. "I believe I may have to start calling you that."

"I don't mind," the bat replied.

"Can you tell me what you like to do? It may help me find a job for you."

"I think most of all, I like to fly!"

The rat thought a moment. "Have you considered teaching younger bats to fly? You could give lessons. The pay should be enough for you to have a good home and proper food at least."

Fidget considered the idea. "I like it!"

Although he was eventually able to afford his own home, Fidget continued to visit Ratigan frequently. The two became close friends.


	5. Professor Ratigan

******Professor Ratigan**

When Basil returned home from his studies, Ratigan was at the train station to welcome him. After telling about his adventures at the university, Basil inquired about his friend's life.

"I've noticed that a lot of rodents become criminals out of need or anger," Ratigan began. "Some begin by stealing when they have no food. Others feel like they have no chance to make a decent life for themselves, and crime is the only way they feel any sort of power."

Basil nodded.

"I've often wondered if some criminals could reform with counseling, just as alcoholics can sometimes be taught to go without liquor."

"Would I be very much in error if I assumed you wished to offer assistance to certain felons?"

"They could serve a certain amount of time behind bars first, depending on their crimes. Perhaps those guilty of minor offenses could choose reformation as an alternative to prison."

"Interesting theory," Basil complimented. "Who shall work with the delinquents until their reformation is complete?"

"I would be willing."

Ratigan was nearly overwhelmed by the large turn out in his first session. He rang a small bell to signal that he was about to begin, and everyone else quieted down.

"Good afternoon," he greeted. "Since this is our first meeting, I would like us all to get to know each other a little better. As this is sort of like a class, you may call me 'Professor Ratigan.' I want to help you, so I will do my best to be patient and tolerant, but you should know my best friend is a detective, so if any of you ever upset me, Basil and I will see you arrested! You will serve time in prison rather than having a second chance to be a good citizen. Just don't give me any trouble, and I won't give you any." He cleared his throat. "Now we will all take turns saying our names and what we'd like to do with our lives."

A lizard stood. "I'm Bill. Whatever I end up doing for a living, I just want my own family someday."

Ratigan smiled. "We'll keep that in mind, Bill."

A mouse was next. "My name is Henry, and I've always wanted to be a landscape artist."

The next mouse stood. "I'm Lewis. I'd like to travel."

"Robert. I want to be famous."

"My name's Allen. I think I'd like to run for Parliament."

By the time Ratigan retired, he had helped nearly five hundred lawbreakers reform their ways. Many of these former delinquents also dedicated their lives to preventing others from turning criminal.


	6. The Sentimental Part

**The Sentimental Part **

With his days spent retraining criminals, Ratigan was certainly kept busy between evening rehearsals and performances. However, he was doing the two things he loved most: changing society for the better and bringing joy to others. Despite his busy schedule, he still found time to visit orphanages and hospitals to sing for children. He always allowed them to dance with him, taking their hands as he balanced their feet on his.

It was during one visit to an orphanage that he made a new friend. As Ratigan concluded his brief concert, a mouse approached him.

"Padraic Ratigan?"

"Yes?"

The mouse extended a hand. "It's an honor to meet you, sir! My sisters and I have seen every one of your performances! You have a real talent, and you choose to share it with children! And the work you're doing to make society safer by teaching criminals to reform instead of just having them thrown in jail…!" He smiled. "Now they have a chance to contribute to society instead of just being separated from it. Rather than losing any hope of a good life, they have a chance to find respectable jobs and have their own families." He shook his head in disbelief. "It's an honor to meet someone I've heard so much about!"

"The pleasure is mine, Mister…"

"Ingham," the mouse answered.

Ratigan's eyes widened. "Not Bartholomew Ingham, the richest mouse in London!"

"My parents still have the majority of the wealth, and I wish them longevity before I inherit my share, but yes, I am Bartholomew."

"Your family…! Mousedom has never had such philanthropists! I've read about your work for orphanages, hospitals, and schools! It's in every newspaper imaginable!"

"Is there any way I could persuade you to attend my sister's wedding?" queried Bartholomew. "She'd be honored to have you as a guest."

"It is I who would be honored," Ratigan answered. "Just out of curiosity, which sister?"

"Margaret. Cora's already been married for about two years now. She's actually going to have my first niece or nephew before too long. My other two sisters aren't interested in finding the right man and having their own families yet, but they're still young. They have plenty of time to change their minds later if that's what they want."

The day Margaret Ingham changed her last name, Ratigan played the harp and sang during her reception. He was also one of the first guests to toast to the happy couple.

More exciting news was in store for the Inghams, for less than a fortnight after the wedding, Margaret became an aunt. The child would eventually have two siblings and eleven cousins, but that's another story.

"Love must be a wonderful thing," Ratigan muttered rhetorically as he walked into the theater to audition for the next musical.

To no one's surprise, he got one of the main roles. However, he was definitely shocked to see another rat in the theater. Not many rats auditioned, but this one also got a main role.

"It appears I have a little competition," Ratigan joked, politely tipping his hat.

The other rat smiled. "It appears so, Mr. Ratigan."

"It seems a little silly to be formal with someone who's going to be singing the other half of your duet. You may call me Padraic." He extended his hand.

"Felicity." She shook the offered hand.

As Ratigan walked home the next day from leading potential criminals in their reformation session, he noticed something in the alley.

"A kitten!" He frowned, remembering how a cat attack had left him orphaned when he was only an infant.

This kitten was smaller than most. In fact, she was even a bit smaller than the rat. Her ribs were showing from hunger.

Ratigan sighed sadly. He understood what it was like to have one's entire species judged by the actions of a few individuals. A cat had wronged him in the past, but this kitten had done no harm. She cowered as he approached.

"It's alright, darling." He spoke softly and moved slowly to avoid frightening her more. "I know you've probably heard what some rats do to young kittens, but I won't hurt you." He lightly stroked her head. "Your ribs are showing from hunger. Are you a stray?"

The kitten mewed.

"Do you eat mice?"

The kitten cringed at the thought.

"Don't worry. You won't have to eat any. I'm glad you're not a mouser. We'll see if you like fish." He rubbed the top of one of her paws. "I'm going to take good care of you, sweetheart. You'll have plenty to eat and a comfortable place to sleep, and I will keep you company. I'll do everything within my power to make sure you have a good life."

Timidly, she pulled him into an embrace, still unsure of what to expect.

Ratigan wrapped his arms around her. "You don't need to be afraid. I'm here for you. I will treat you as my own daughter."

"Mew."

"We need to think of a name for you." He thought hard. "I suppose I'll come up with one eventually. Right now, I should get some food for you."

After a meal and several more hugs, the kitten was feeling much happier. She pounced on Ratigan's cape, playfully hissing.

He chuckled. "You remind me of an actress I know. Her name's Felicity. It would be too confusing for me if the two of you had the same name, but maybe I could call you something similar. What do you think of 'Felicia'?"

The kitten purred as she cuddled him. That night, Ratigan fell asleep between Felicia's paws. It was the start of a friendship that would last a lifetime.

As for Felicity, the lady rat that Ratigan met, the two of them realized they were really starting to like each other's company. During cast call of the final performance of the musical they were in, Ratigan addressed the audience.

"My friends," he began, "I hope you will not mind, but as this is the final night we will be performing, I would like to sing one last song."

This idea was met by applause, so Ratigan began:

_I never cared for fairy tales_

_Until the fateful day_

_The fairest princess of them all_

_Finally looked my way._

_I'd never met an angel 'til_

_You came into my life._

_My love is true;_

_What must I do_

_To have you for my wife?_

_You know I'd never make you cry;_

_I'd treat you like my queen._

_I'd make you the happiest girl_

_The world has ever seen._

_There's nothing I wouldn't give to_

_Bring joy into your life;_

_Ask anything._

_I have the ring._

_My love, please be my wife._

_I bend my knee._

_Felicity,_

_Will you become my wife?_

Having finished the final note of his song, Ratigan knelt before his sweetheart and slipped a ring on her finger. To say the least, she was surprised. She kept staring at her hand.

"Padraic…"

"I can think of no greater honor," he whispered.

"Nor can I!" She threw her arms around him. "Yes!"

The audience gave a standing ovation as the two kissed.


	7. Our Lives Would Have Been Great

**Our Lives Would Have Been Great**

"Splendid to see you!" Basil stepped back, allowing Ratigan to enter the flat. "You've arrived just in time for tea!"

"It really is kind of you to invite me." Ratigan took a seat at the table. "How's the greatest detective in all Mousedom?"

Basil sighed wearily. "I do wish all delinquents were willing to reform. It would make my career ever so much easier."

"Slightly baffled, are you?"

The investigator gave a terse nod.

"I work with criminals. I understand a little about the way they reason. Maybe if you tell me a little about it, I could help you."

It wasn't long before the two had figured out the answer that had proven so evasive.

"Maybe you should find an assistant," Ratigan suggested. "Someone to help you when I can't. I'd still be glad to be of service when I could."

Basil nodded. "There is sagacity in your words. I shall consider it." He sipped his tea. "How fares your kitten?"

"She's befriended a dog who lives on Pinchin Lane."

"A young basset hound?"

"Indeed."

"I do believe I know him. He seems to have a splendid sense of smell. Perhaps with training, he could prove a valuable asset on cases."

Ratigan laughed. "They may end up working together when they grow up. He could find criminals, and she could guard prisons. Not too many convicts would try escaping if there was a cat nearby."

"Unless they attempted to sneak catnip into their cells."

"True enough." He smiled fondly. "Felicia's too sweet to be menacing anyway. She has a real talent for making friends. Even the Inghams dote on her!"

Even in adulthood, Felicia remained beloved by mice. Several children thought of her as an aunt, especially the children who came into Ratigan's life after his marriage.

As Ratigan had predicted, Felicia and Toby did grow up to work together. The cat often helped the sleuth hound solve cases.

Basil eventually made the acquaintance of Dr. David Q. Dawson, and the two of them became partners in crime.

Partners in crime; partners against crime…what's the difference? It's just one preposition. The point is that they were a close team.

Although Basil was like a brother to Ratigan, the rat also remained close friends with Fidget, who never got a crippled wing or a peg leg.

In short, everyone lived happily ever after.


	8. Epilogue: Toby Hates My Story

**Epilogue: Toby Hates My Story**

Toby rolled his eyes when I finished my story.

"I take it you didn't like it." I commented.

"That would be the understatement of the year, cat!" He sighed. "I can't believe I wasted my time listening to that! You're a pathetic lyricist, your story is completely unbelievable, and referring to yourself in third person was ridiculous!"

"It was no worse than your story about what life would have been like if Basil had never been a detective!"

"I beg to differ! It was a lot worse than my story!"

That's typical life at Baker Street: You start out teasing each other mercilessly, get involved in a dangerous case, and end up arguing about whose story is more pathetic, all in less than twenty-four hours.

Oddly enough, I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
